Homesick
by The Last Evenstar
Summary: Newly married Aragorn and Arwen try to adjust to like in Minas Tirith. Are they homesick - or lovesick? Just a big bit of fluff, really.
1. The Best Thing About Queenship

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Homesick, a.k.a. Lovesick

By The Last Evenstar

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Disclaimer: Not mine! Nothing is mine! Come on, you should have learned that by now. If it's on fanfiction.net, it's stolen! *Fondles stolen Aragorn* 

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A/N: I did noting for a week, trying to think of ideas. Finally I got tired of my inbox being so empty and went back to my original thought. Please, PLEASE tell me whether or not you like it!

Arwen watched Aragorn sleep. His lips were parted slightly, and his chest moved up and down in constant rhythm. He had a faint smile on his face, as if dreaming of some far-off happiness.

_Should I wake him? _she deliberated. _Or get up quietly and let him sleep? _Affection toyed with general amusement as she pondered the dilemma.

It turned out that her pondering was in vain, however, for a few moments later he slowly opened his eyes. Seeing her, the faint smile became a grin so wide that she wondered if his face could hold the strain. 

"Good morning," she whispered, kissing him on the cheek.

He wrapped his arms around her. "Good morning." He kissed her softly. "Now I'm going back to sleep."

She giggled, snuggling up against his warm body. "Shouldn't you get up and attend to your kingly duties?"

He yawned. "You know, I've been King a while now and still haven't figured out what those duties are."

She wrinkled her nose. "Good. Do queens have duties?"

He nodded gravely. "They involve kissing the King, making love to the King, and, oh, yes – letting him sleep."

She grinned. "Then it's only fair that the King should have duties too."

"Unfortunately, that's the popular opinion among my advisors."

Her grin widened. "I bet I have MUCH different ideas than they do."

He drew the coverlet tighter around the two of them. "I hope. Although this one fellow has been looking at me in a very funny way –"

"Estel!" She tried not to laugh. "Should I be jealous?"

"Probably." He smiled wickedly. "It WAS him I was planning to marry, but then you showed up, and -"

She yanked the covers off of him. "That's it. No more duties for you!"

He yelped. Grabbing her around the waste, he caught her in a long kiss. Once she loosened her grip on the covers, he pulled them back.

"You're a very tricky man, Estel," she said, kissing him again.

Unfortunately, it turned out that Kings do have duties – real ones. When Aragorn was called away to a meeting after breakfast, Arwen decided to take the opportunity to explore her knew home.

After walking in on a peace summit and a very embarrassed young couple, she decided it was best just to memorize the way to and from the courtyard and her bedchamber and learn the rest over time. 

What disconcerted her most were the people. In Rivendell she had handmaidens, but they were all friends she had known for thousands of years. Here, a host a strangers seemed to be everywhere, vying to do her bidding. Obviously men were not a private people.

In the courtyard she found Éowyn, polishing a sword. She didn't know the girl that well, but figured it was better than not at all.

She smiled brightly and made her way over to sit down. "Hello, Éowyn."

The shieldmaiden looked up in surprise. "Good morning, Your Highness."

Arwen frowned. "You don't need to call me that. 'Arwen' will do." She paused. "You don't call Aragorn 'Your Highness'."

Éowyn smiled ruefully. "I probably should."

The elf shook her head. "He hates it." She searched for a topic of conversation. "I hear you're betrothed to Lord Faramir."

The girl grinned shyly. "We're to marry at the end of the month."

"You're from Rohan, aren't you?" Éowyn nodded. "What is it like there?"

The shieldmaiden grinned and got a far-off look in her eye. "It's wonderful. My memories of the Golden Hall are not all happy, of course, but in general it was a place of great comfort. The people are wary and mistrustful, but at heart they're truly good. Edoras is a beautiful city – green grass, and shining stone, and a wonderful view of the mountains." 

It was apparent the Éowyn loved her homeland very much. "How do you deal with . . . being away? Do you get homesick?"

"Sometimes," Eowyn admitted. "The people of Gondor are quite different from my own. It feels strange not to be conversing in my native tongue."

Arwen smiled. The girl could have been describing her very feelings. "I know what you mean. I would never give this up for anything, but –" She swept a hand out over Minas Tirith. "It isn't home. I hope that soon it will be."

Éowyn grinned. "This country has no choice. I'm MAKING it my home!"

Aragorn was bored to death. All the countries agreed that they were at peace with each other; did they really have to specify how? _I must be no good at this King bit, _he thought ruefully. _It's a wonder they haven't fired me already._

Eomer was talking now. _Do Kings get lunch breaks? _Aragorn wondered. He looked around nervously. _I hope they don't ask my opinion._

Eomer turned to him. "What is your opinion, Aragorn?"

"I agree with you," Aragorn said, hoping he could trust his friend's judgement. "So – have we come to an accord?"

General nods filled the room. Aragorn sighed in relief. "Very good, then. Er – everyone dismissed."

_I must sound like I have no idea what I'm doing, _he thought, making his way out of the room. _I hope no one picks up on that._

Faramir elbowed his as he waked past. "You had no idea what you were doing, did you?"

The King groaned. "Did I agree to something very stupid?"

"Well, we had already finished the peace talks. You told Eomer you agreed that horses were superior to humans."

Aragorn groaned. "So much for everyone's opinion of me."

Faramir chuckled as they walked out into the courtyard. Arwen and Éowyn were sitting together on a bench further down. "Well, well, my friend. Looks like you and I both got lucky in our direction."

Aragorn grinned and made his way over to his wife. She looked so lovely, sitting there . . . the sunlight shone off her soft brown hair and when she turned, she looked so beautiful that Aragorn felt his breath leave him.

She got up and walked over to him, her smile full of love. "Hello, Your Highness."

He laughed and caught her in his arms. "Hello, my lovely Queen." He kissed her deeply, not minding who was watching. "I love you," he whispered.

In his arms, Arwen could not remember for the life of her what she had been complaining about only minutes before. "I love you too." 

He reached down and kissed her again, making her lips tingle with a sweet sensation. "Will you do me the honor of gracing me with your presence at the noontime meal?" he asked, his eyes twinkling.

She squeezed his hand and fell into step. "I would be honored, my lord." She paused. "Will you be away for the rest of the afternoon?"

He nodded. "I have many duties." A wicked grin spread across his face. "However, they are all up to you."

She laughed as they made their way into the hall. "I guess there are some benefits to being a queen."

He paused in the entryway to kiss her again. "Not as many as there are to being a king."

Arwen noted several people watching them with interest. "I memorized the way to our rooms," she whispered.

He grinned. "Good, because I didn't."

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A/N: So? Did you love it? Hate it? Could you care less? Why not take ten seconds out of your day and review?


	2. The Worst Thing About Queenship

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Homesick

By The Last Evenstar

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A/N: Okay, so originally I had intended just one chapter for this story. But then I got all your nice reviews, and I was bored, so I thought, How about another chapter? I think, maybe, there will be one more after this. Better than this one, I hope, because 

I was really drawing a creative blank. Sorry for that and any typos.

And this chapter is dedicated to all the nice people who reviewed:

Anamaria Elentari - Shut up. SHUT UP! Let's announce to the world that you're in love with a Bulgarian GRANOLA BAR, okay? Oh, world . . .

jade124 - Thanks! I'm NEVER sweet in real life, so I love getting compliments like that . . .

Cerridwen-Evereven - I can never refuse someone who says please. Except when I feel like it.

Queen Arwen - Yay! Thank you! I know EXACTLY how you feel, and that makes your review all the much nicer.

Blackbird10 - Ah, well, if I was going for different, Tolkien would probably come back from the dead just to kill me. So be thankful I stick to 'cute'.

b-witched83uk - Thanks! Those horses . . . always so egotistical . . . I heard about your story getting kicked off ff.net, and I was mad! I liked that story . . . anyway, just lettin' ya know some people care . . .

EbonyBeach - Thank you! I loved your review!   


Evenstar - We all thrive on fluff. There should be a support group.

arwensolo - Thank you . . . I did!

The Converted - I'm perfectly willing to share /my/ Aragorn. Here, have a hair from his head.

galadriel evenstar - Thank you! Someone who notices my *cough* fine descriptions!

juliet's rose - I'm glad you liked it! And sorry, SORRY about the typos! I swear it won't happen again (yeah, right).

ME132 - My inbox was thrilled. I tried to get it up soon . . . I've been BUSY . . . I love them as newlyweds too!

Terreis - Glad, glad, glad you loved it! And I didn't mean that horses really WERE superior . . . Asfaloth made me put it in . . .

AND! NOW! The moment you've all been waiting for!

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Chapter Two: The Worst Thing About Queenship

In a township like Minas Tirith, rumors fly faster than a speeding Nazgul. So, naturally, it was no time at all before the whole city was eager to catch a glimpse of the acclaimed public displays of affection between their own ruling monarchs.

Everywhere Arwen went, there were people following her. If, during a particularly boring something or other, Aragorn leaned over to whisper something in her ear, there they were, pointing. If they left the room together, the whispers followed them all the way down the hall.

"Don't these people have any sense of propriety?" Arwen asked despairingly the next night.

"Doesn't seem like it," her husband replied, grinning. "Then again, neither do we."

She rolled her eyes as she climbed into bed. "I should have known better than to talk to you about it, man-who-does-not-bathe. But I really do feel," she said, turning to face him, "that they're always watching. That I can never have a moment to compose myself without their eyes there."

Aragorn sighed. "You need to understand. Elves are a very private people, but humans never had that sense of decency. With the privilege comes the spotlight, I guess."

She sidled closer to him. "Then I'd better take full advantage of the privilege, since the spotlight is so omnipresent."

He kissed her softly. "It'll die down, melamin. Luckily, the privilege never will."

She grinned. "Luckily indeed."

The next morning, walking in the courtyard, Arwen heard someone crying. Her sensitive Elven ears picked up on the sound right away, and she followed it to a little grove behind the citadel. "Éowyn!"

The girl looked up at her and quickly wiped the tears away. "Your – Arwen. I'm sorry. I didn't hear you coming." She sniffled.

Arwen sat down next to her. "What's wrong?"

The shieldmaiden stuck out her chin stubbornly. "I had something in my eye."

Arwen shrugged. "Sounded to me like you were weeping."

Éowyn's façade faltered. "I was. I just . . . I don't cry."

The elf smiled softly. "If you did cry, what would be wrong? Did you have a fight with Faramir?"

Her lip trembled again. "No. That's just it. I love him and I know I want to marry him, but I just can't imagine leaving Rohan behind."

At once Arwen's heart went out to the girl. "It hurts to leave your home behind, doesn't it?" In response Éowyn nodded. "But you – you'll still see your family. Holidays, and celebrations, Eomer will come to Gondor or you'll go back home." She bit her lip. "I may never see my family again."

"How can you do that?" Éowyn burst out. "How can you leave them, knowing that? Why do you come here, a city of men with customs and behavior you know nothing of, and let the last of your kind sail away in the distance?" She noticed the tear in Arwen's eye. "I'm sorry. I did not mean to upset you."

The elf smiled wanly. "That's all right. The truth is, Éowyn, I don't know. Sometimes everything here seems so foreign that I wish I could just pack my things and go home. I miss Rivendell terribly, but I miss my family more."

"Why don't you?" whispered Éowyn. "Why do you stay, if your heart yearns to be away?"

Suddenly Arwen broke into a grin. "I never said that. My heart belongs right here in Minas Tirith. I know it every time I see him, or even catch a glance of his face." Éowyn turned to see Aragorn striding across the courtyard, unaware he was being watched. "You see? Just the thought of him reminds me that I made the right choice." She turned and lowered her voice. "And to tell the truth, there never was a choice. I had three thousand years of my family – knowing them, that's all anyone could take. And it doesn't matter that I miss them, because I know I'll be happy here. I just need some time." 

With that, she fairly ran over to Aragorn and he swept her up in his arms as Éowyn looked on. She tried to imagine intensifying her pain tenfold and still be as composed as Arwen was. _I couldn't do it, _she thought. _I suppose that's just an elf thing._

"Hello."

She turned startled, to see Faramir behind her. "Good morning." Only around the man she loved was the shieldmaiden of Rohan ever shy.

Faramir grinned at her. He looked so foolishly happy that Éowyn couldn't help but laugh. "Worked over your woes?"

She grinned and slung an arm around his waist. "Yes. Shall we go celebrate?"

He raised one eyebrow. "Celebrate? I thought you'd want to enjoy your last days of freedom."

She grinned and started to walk towards the doors. "Now that you mention it, I always wanted to swim naked down the Entwash River . . ."

_I'm a very lucky man, _thought Aragorn. He voiced his thought.

Arwen grinned impishly. "Of course you are. How many men can say they fell off a cliff and survived?"

He grabbed her around the waist and kissed her smoothly. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"So you were referring to being the first survivor out of Dunharrow? Or leading the forces of Gondor to victory on the Dark Lord's doorstep?"

Aragorn shook his head in mock anguish. "No welcome mat or anything. I tell you, it's enough to make a man feel unwanted."

She slipped into his arms. "You'll never be unwanted," she murmured, just loud enough for him to hear.

He kissed her deeply, wrapping his strong arms around her slender frame. "I AM lucky," he whispered, then paused. "What, no sarcasm?"

She leaned her head against his shoulder. "It's not so funny this time."

She could feel him tense. "Are you – do you – Arwen, are you truly unhappy here?"

She shook her head slowly. "Not unhappy. Just homesick. And the whole city scrutinizing my every move doesn't help either." She looked up, and sure enough, there were people watching. She looked into the distance, where somewhere her people had gone away, leaving her all alone in the world of men. But then she looked at him, into his handsome face with the worried, worried eyes. And she knew she was not alone; never alone. "Do not worry, Estel. I love you, and that's all I need."

He swept her into a kiss, heedless of the staring crowds. And for once, she didn't mind.

It was hard to catch a breath. When she did, her eyes danced into his own, full of humor, mischief, and most of all love. "You know, Estel, I think I might just stay a while."


	3. Twelve Years Later

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Homesick

By The Last Evenstar

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A/N: And at long last, we reach the conclusion of this epic saga. Hey, if you've read this far, congratulations. 

Anamaria Elentari - Well, it wasn't my CHOICE to put the stalker there! Blame the Love Match thing. It's dumb . . . just wait 'till you get yours . . .

dandelion - I'm glad you like it! Thank you for your nice review!

Blackbird10 - I hope, by your review, that you meant you liked it . . . 

The Converted - Thanks. I guess you can't blame the people - they're curious (or jealous). Here's another strand. I washed this one. Kinda takes away from the effect, though.

b-witched83uk - Yes, we love him regardless of his hygiene habits. I hope you don't have to wait until august to post - that would be terrible! I _think_ ff.net uses the American system . . .

galadriel evenstar - Wow! You really MUST be Galadriel - you guessed exactly what I was planning for this chapter.

Thank you so much, anyone I missed! My computer's been kinda screwed up, so I might not have seen yours - I know there was one I definitely can't find . . . 

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Chapter Three: Twelve Years Later

"There it is, Naneth!" Eldarion cried out. "I see it! I see it!"

Arwen laughed at her son. "One would think you'd been away for years, not just a few months," she replied with a grin.

The boy stuck his tongue out at her. At nine years old, Eldarion had yet to show any of the behavioral grace of his ancestors.

The much more solemn little girl sharing Arwen's horse looked up. "I don't see anything special." Four-year-old Silmiesin was infinitely more Elven than her excited brother.

Aragorn, riding alongside, reached over to ruffle her dark curls. "Look that way, [whatever}," he told the child. "See the White City?"

A slow smile spread across the little girl's face. "We're home?"

Arwen laughed. "Not quite. But a few hours away."

Eldarion grumbled. "It's not fair! I can ride faster than this!"

Arwen looked skeptically at the boy, sitting incorrectly on his dumpy brown pony. Over the years, the skill of suppressing her laughter had come in handy more than once.

She looked more closely at the scene, taking it all in. Despite her numerous efforts to teach him, Eldarion could not ride bareback, as was the custom of the elves. Silmiesin could keep her balance, but only with one of her mother's arms tucked firmly around her waist.

_They grow more and more human by the day, _she realized wistfully. _They've grown up so fast – and without knowledge of their culture or heritage._ She looked down at her stomach, which, although not full, was much greater than usual. _And it will be the same with the next one. My children will grow and learn in the world of men, and –_

She turned to see Eldarion arguing ferociously with his friend Bergil about whether or not girls were yucky. He argued already with the fervor and charisma of a king.

__

- and they'll turn out just fine. 

Aragorn watched his wife intently. Whenever she had that look on her face, he knew she was thinking about her home – and the people she had left behind. It made his heart ache for her, but he knew she no longer suffered for it. _She loves this land, _he mused, _and she fits in so well, you could never tell by listening she was a foreigner._

He saw Arwen laughing and talking gaily with a handmaiden, unaware that Silmiesin was busying herself by playing with Arwen's dagger. Aragorn rode closer and swiftly grabbed the weapon out of his daughter's hand.

"Arwen, meltha, you need to be more careful with what she gets a hold of –"

He was cut off by the little girl's reproachful glare. "I'm careful!"

Arwen laughed. "You silly, even Eldarion isn't allowed to play with weapons."

"Although for a slightly different reason," added Aragorn, remembering the finger that had almost been lost. "I'm sure you know enough not to throw –"

"We're almost there!" Eldarion cantered over, lopsided, on his pony. "Look, Silmy!"

Sure enough, it wasn't long before they were passing once more through the white stone gates. "Sit up straight," he could hear Arwen whisper.

His daughter's wide eyes looked up into his own. "Are we home, Ada?"

It was Arwen who answered. "We're home."

When Arwen stopped in the courtyard to kiss her husband, no one watched and no one cared. After all, there's only a certain point up to which something is interesting.

They found their way to the bedchamber with remarkable ease. Only one did they take a wrong turning, finding Bergil and one of the maids in a broom closet, proving once and for all that girls were not yucky.

"Glad to be back?" Aragorn asked as they unpacked their things.

She grinned. "There's no place like home."

He took her in his arms. "You don't know how glad I am to hear you say that."

Her eyes twinkled teasingly at the look on his face. "Actually, I think I might venture a guess."

He pulled her closer. "Would you now?" He paused. "I'm glad you don't miss YOUR home."

She grinned and kissed him. His arms were wrapped tightly around her waist, never wanting to let go.

At that moment, the door burst open. "Naneth! Ada! Ioreth said I was being a nuisance again!"

Aragorn laughed at his son. "She was right. Go along and play."

Eldarion wrinkled his nose. "Bergil's busy."

King and Queen exchanged looks. "Eldarion, {{}}, maybe you'd better find some new friends."

As the boy scowled, his sister came up behind him, arms folded in a four-year-old expression of annoyance. "Naneth, El-dare-yon won't play with me!"

Aragorn grinned. "There, you go, son. Play with your sister!"

The future ruler scowled. "You're missing the point!" He turned and ran off.

Silmiesin lingered a moment longer. "He thinks girls are bad," she explained, with childlike seriousness, before following her errant brother.

Once they were gone, Arwen began to laugh. "We need to get a guard for that door."

Aragorn shook his head. "Eldarion could outwit any guard," he said proudly. "He's my son, all right."

Arwen smiled and kissed him on the cheek. "And he has your modesty, too."

The King grinned lovingly at his wife. "Let's hope the next little one does better, then." He patted her stomach.

"Better than this?" She shook her head. "Our children are perfect."

From outside the room came the indignant cry of a bothered Bergil, followed by a slamming door and childish giggling.

Aragorn nodded. "Perfect," he said, then pulled her in for a long, deep kiss.

"I love you," she whispered.

He grinned, puzzled. "I love you too."

She shook her head, knowing that no one could understand how she felt. "I love my life. I wouldn't trade it for anything."

He kissed her. "You might want to think about trading that son in for a less wild model."

She slinked her arm coyly around his back. "I thought he was 'your' son."

He pulled her backwards onto the bed. "Exactly."

_I don't miss MY home, _she thought, laying in his arms, _because it's right here._


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